A small balance between now and then
by Cejes
Summary: He found Potter sitting on the floor, starring into nothing and just with his pyjama on. Usually Tom felt nothing when he was standing next to Potter. And now he observed, felt, Potter molding his magic. Wrapping it around his skin and inside the castle. As would it be as easy as breathing.
1. Chapter 1

Tom Riddle never thought much about his fellow students. Nor considered he them to be worth a second glance or even a second thought. He had everything he needed: Loyal followers; because they feared him enough to not think about betraying him or just thought he was right, and a brain which he knew to use instead of others around him. Of course Dumbledore was a nuisance but he was sure he could handle it in the right way. It was just one single man out of so many others who was suspicious of him. Admittedly one man with a great influence and impact on others, but two could play this game.

Altogether you could say that his life was kind of boring. He learned over the years how to deal with Dumbledore, how to charm the rest of the school or to simple ignore some individuals who didn't have any worth to him. The first few years he made sure to memorize everything about the new world he entered with eleven. He studied, earned the respect of Slytherin house. There was absolutely no challenge and his mind was restless.

Tom's seventh year at Hogwarts started how predicted and went on how he expected it to go on. He got his badge which tagged him as the new head boy during the summer holidays. Of course he saw it coming long before. It was absolutely no surprise for him or someone else. Which didn't mean that he didn't feel a bit proud of himself. Only for a moment because he couldn't afford to show any weakness. Showing proudness meant another being could take advantage of it; in which way couldn't be predicted and if there was one thing Tom hated it was not being the one who was in control of the situation.

In search of an empty section he greeted some students he knew, nodded to the rest and stopped shortly as he opened a door just to find Harry Potter sitting there with an open book in his lap and a distant look in his eyes. Potter was a fellow Slytherin since their first year. Boring, untalented, average. Just with the exception that there was something odd about him since the last year.

"Potter," he greeted shortly and startled the boy. Potter was small, much too small and with a ducked posture; massy hair and he wore way too often patched glasses. Tom had a hard time to stifle a despicable grin because of his absurd appearance.

"Riddle," Potter answered softly, not looking at him. Tom couldn't help but to have the feeling that the boy was mocking him. Before the last year they ignored each other. Potter seemed to think it was better to talk to owls than to learn or make first connections as long as he was still in school with heirs of old and noble houses. Tom knew to take advantage out of it and tied them to his side. But Potter... The thing was that Tom didn't know at least a bit about the boy. It was like he just existed and nothing more. Tom didn't hear anything about friends which Potter could have or hobbies or something similar. He didn't even know a trifle about his upbringing, his heritage or family. It was, Tom frowned, a riddle. Potter acted as if he would live inside a lonely bubble and then something changed suddenly. He still remembered the look of horror in Potter's eyes, disbelieving and mourning. Breath fast and unsteady, his body shaking.

Since this day Potter acted more distant. Absent in classes, outside of their dormitory at night. One time Tom found him standing on the astronomy tower, barefoot and looking at the stars. Tom went to fetch him and bring him back to the Slytherin common room. Neither of them spoke a word and Potter was cold like the night.

They repeated that at least once every second week. Potter grew more and more distant from every time and if he looked at Tom his eyes were full of hate and understanding. Tom _didn't_ understand what was happening but he knew that Potter was wary of him. Sometimes he would catch Potter watching him, watching his every step for a few minutes and then abruptly turn away. It was disturbing and even his dull followers noted that something was in the development to change the dynamics. Something big.

Dippet gave the same speech like the year before and the year before that. Tom wore a neutral facial expression and everyone applaud him for becoming head boy as Dippet announced him to be one for the following year. Potter didn't clap his hands. Instead he looked strict in Tom's eyes. He knew he was a brilliant legilimens. But Potter was different. As Tom slipped inside the boy's mind he was greeted with everything and nothing at the same time. It was like a black hole. Fascinating, dark, capturing. A promise for more and a promise for nothing. Tom was the first one to look away and it was hurting to see the little smile which was forming on Potter's face.

Potter was cold, as had someone take away his energy to live. He was the perfect Slytherin. Stony face and no visible emotions. Tom watched him changing. Back in their first year, as both of them were not welcome, he was warm and bubbly and had big eyes. An average young wizard some would say, a normal child with normal behaviour for their age others would say. Nothing special but not the worst at anything. Potter tried a few times to befriend with Tom but gave up after Tom told him what he thought about friends. After that Potter disappeared from his radar. Until they reached their sixth year; there he had his comeback.

Dumbledore watched them, Tom was sure of it. Watching how they danced around each other from the distance and was making his own plans. Potter visited Tom as he was at the hospital wing because of a failed potion. Of course it wasn't Tom's cauldron which exploded. But it hit him and now he had to stay over the night.

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Tom dreamed of lips which touched his faintly. A warm breath against his skin and a calming presence. That was were his downfall began.

Tom woke up with a racing heart and a dry mouth. As the Head Boy he had a room for himself, he didn't need to share his sleeping room with snoring people or to watch where he put his things nor who could read his more delightful notes. A fast spell later and he knew that it was still in the middle of the night. That would be the perfect time for students to wander around the castle when they intended to see another student, mostly from the opposite sex to have some fun together. And somehow... Somehow Tom had the urge to think of Potter.

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A week later it was happening again. Tom woke up in the dead of night, sticky and his first thought was about Potter. How small he was and how frail he looked, how mysterious and exactly _that_ was Tom's problem. His mind craved for something to solve, something where he didn't need barely ten minutes. He couldn't ignore Potter anymore and he was interesting in a odd way.

It was a night were Tom looked for students who where out of their beds after curfew. It was always a pleasure to catch them, take points from them and send them back to bed. He, Tom, was the one in control, noone else. But this night was different. Of course he found people in the corridors, looked at them with a firm expression and enjoyed watching them crumple up in front of him. He told them to return immediately and went on with his round.

He found Potter sitting on the floor, starring into nothing and just with his pyjama on. Usually Tom felt nothing when he was standing next to Potter. Tom was aware of the fact that he was sensitive towards magic if it was strong enough and Potter was just like every other student: A blind spot on a big scenery. Hogwarts was warm and felt like home, most of the professors had good enough magic. Merrythought, Dumbledore and Dippet obtained more than average. And now he observed, _felt_ , Potter molding his magic. Wrapping it around his skin and inside the castle. As would it be as easy as breathing.

"It hurts to know, Tom." Suddenly Potter looked at him; without properly looking. Tears were running down his cheeks and his eyes shone in a hurt way. "The pictures."

The next day Potter remembered nothing about Tom dragging him back, covering him with a blanket. Potter knew nothing about his tears, his words or his unsteady moving as they went back. Or, Tom thought darkly, perhaps Potter pretended to have forgotten everything to avoid his questioning look. If yes then it would be a very Slytherin move...

If Tom would have a conscience it would properly tell him that he acted like a stalker around Potter. Everyone around them noticed that he had changed. Tom Riddle has changed because of a mere person like Harry Potter. He would snort in disbelieve but he knew it was the truth and somewhere, deep, very deep, inside him, he could admit it. Tom was never aware of the simplest facts about Potter and within the next three weeks he learned more about Potter that he ever knew.

Potter was not terrible small, he was only younger. Tom was within hearing range as a Ravenclaw girl congratulated Potter afterwards to his 16th birthday. It was an enigma to Tom how Potter happened to be in his year. Still Potter was small and he didn't eat the amount Tom considered healthy. Potter went often outside for a walk or to sit by the lake. It didn't matter whether it was a sunny day or a rainy one. Furthermore Tom never saw him wear anything else then his school uniform. And he seemed to suffer under insomnia which wasn't new information for Tom. A surprise was that Potter had one single friend; still not to close. This Ravenclaw girl. Just like Tom it looked like Potter didn't get any post at breakfast and he needed his coffee before he would say a single word.

Dumbledore was an insane old coward, Tom knew it since he saw Dumbledore at the orphanage for the first time. A fool who assumed he could unit the houses only because of his will.

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"Professor," Tom spoke after Dumbledore nodded in his direction, "I volunteer to work with Potter. I feel confident that I can help him should any problem or question appear." He smiled his most charming smile and felt sick.

"If you say so, Mr Riddle." Dumbledore looked troubled and hesitant.

To say that Tom was disappointed was an understatement. Potter proved being the untalented idiot he thought him to be and even though he saw it his mind kept reminding him of the night he watched Potter playing with his magic like it was a tool. Tom wanted to feel it again, the strange and yet familiar magic nudging against has own skin, sending pleasant shivers down his body. He wanted to have this feeling again. Tom's eyes darkened. It was like a rush. Ecstasy and the start of an addiction.

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The dream repeated itself almost every night. It was as if he could touch the other person. As would he just have to reach out with his hand and pull whoever near him. The presence was warm, kind. In his dream he wrapped his arms around the being, pulled it as near as he could to feel secure, like being finally at home after a too long time. And every time he woke up he felt a bit more lost.

Playing his game as flawless as ever became more difficult and Tom knew that he had to put his followers back in line. They got too restless, to suspicious that something was off of the normal way. He had to fear that his mask got flaws. Year long hard working got to waste if he didn't take acting again.

And so he tried to ignore the dreams, he ignored the ache which came with it. He became as ruthless as never before. His followers feared him more then ever. He studied the dark arts and planned to make a third horcrux. He couldn't let his death get between him and his goals.

Weeks passed by. Dumbledore watched him without a break and Tom had to remove a spying spell once. Potter was again just another student. The dreams continued but when he woke up he knew nothing about them because he used occlumency as a separation wall.

It went good until he snapped one night. It felt like being whole again, complete when he was in company of the dark shadow in his dreams. The warm feeling, melting the sorrow in his bones and clearing his mind. It was whispering to him to see the whole picture and Tom wondered what he didn't noticed. Then he would wake up with a moan, a hand on his chest, clamping. His heart was still racing and suddenly he knew that something was very wrong.

He didn't run but his step was goal-driven. Tom barely noted the wind as he opened the door which led to the tower where he had Astronomy another night every week. Potter was there, he stood still, moved not a step. It was like somebody froze the moment and he, Tom, was just someone watching the scene.

"Harry," Tom said, for the first time ever using the boy's first name. Time stood still just for them as he watched the wind playing with Potter's hair, noting the too thin material of his clothes for the temperatures and frowned. The sky was without clouds and the moon was small; a starry night. "Look at me Harry." And he turned around.

"You know Riddle," Potter told him with a small smile that made Tom wanting to struggle Potter until he wasn't breathing anymore. So that he couldn't cause anymore trouble or just irritate Tom with his pure presence. "You'll be the cause of so much mourning. Death'll follow your every step, wherever you try to hide. I could, I _should_ , stop you. Kill you. But then I wouldn't be better than you. And let me tell you. Bad things happen with wizards who are playing with time." There was a crazy little smile on Potter's face. "You are my future, Tom Riddle. My past and the present. I loathe you for it and I understand you in some weird way. But I can't forgive." They stood still and noone of them spoke a single word for an eternity. Tom wrapped his arms around Potter's torso, absorbed his shaking with his own body and then he felt tears leaving small wet spots on his shirt.

Despite everything Tom felt warm. Like he did in his dreams. He felt warm, secure, complete, like being finally at home. He would never admit it but he was sure that he smiled. Lips touched each other for a short moment and then they stilled.

"There is such a small balance between now and then, Tom. Sometimes I don't know what was and what is or what will be. Did I see it or did it already happen? Or will it ever happen? Time is such a strange construct, don't you think so as well?" Potter looked up; they were face to face and Tom saw himself in this boy. Broken, lonely and desperate for something similar to love. Two souls searching for their counterpart. He could feel his magic reaching towards Potter's and they welcomed each other like long lost friends.

"Time'll show us our future," he said, not letting Potter get away. He knew that he needed to be in the embrace and somehow Tom needed it as well. Questions were still unanswered, the future was probably horrifying but this moment was perfect. And that was everything that mattered for him at the moment.

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 _That's the first chapter. I hope you liked it so far and had fun while reading it. The second chapter is going to be Harry's point of view of this one._

 _(I posted that fanfiction also on AO3.)_

 _What do you think about it? English is not my native language and I tried, hopeful mostly without failure, to make as few mistakes as it was possible for me._


	2. Chapter 2

_And here is the second chapter. Thanks for the comments and the likes! Hope you like this as well, let me know if you liked it. :-)_

 _English is not my first language, if someone is interested: I won't stop you from correcting my mistakes._

 _Have fun!_

* * *

Harry Potter was one of the few persons who knew who he was from the beginning. He didn't need to think about it, it was just fixed in his very being, something he was aware of just like the knowledge how to breath. And in the rare occasions where he wasn't so sure someone else knew it for him. A hero, a liar, a student, a teacher, a survivor, an enemy, a friend or even a lover. Sometimes he got along with the term they used for him but other times he thought that they were stupid.

Harry Potter was someone who knew his values, what he appreciated and what characteristics he didn't _fancy_. He was a man with a goal and that depended on what was going on in his life; but mostly it was his job to make sure that he survived and to be in a good state of mind even if the last one was a different story if you considered his life. As a child he had to make sure to get enough to eat and to be in time with his chores, as he came to Hogwarts his first duty was it to be a more or less good student and with the second half of his first year it was to survive the world which rescued him from his relatives for nine months of the year. At least he knew that he would get a meal every day and that he had a warm bed. Between being a student and a survivor he had to be a friend, a hero and an avenger.

After the war was won Harry was convinced that he could do whatever him pleased. That he could be "just Harry" as he told Hagrid before his first school year. That he could be himself and not the hero of the damn wizarding word, the liar and the honest. He tried to be a good friend. He really did; and he was a good, a very good, friend. Harry smiled and talked, he woke up deep in the night with nightmares and went on with his day like nothing had happened.

If Harry would be honest with himself he would admit that he never felt so alone before. The war ended but to which price? So many who were death or hurt. So many who lost their family or a friend or a partner. Children which were orphans now and parents without their child.

"There is a reason," he told Ron and Hermione one day, "for everything." He saw in their faces and recognized their disbelieve. Harry wasn't sure whether he trusted his own words either, but he hoped to hear an explanation for everything.

He was Harry Potter, cursed to stay in his own life which felt like a damn trap.

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One day he closed his eyes as the nineteen-year-old Harry Potter and as he opened them again he was sixteen again. How he knew that? He wasn't sure. Why he wasn't a bit more surprised? Because he was Harry Potter; his life took strange turns every while.

The bed he laid in felt warm and comfy, a heavy blanket was placed around his body and all he knew was that he was Harry Potter: Nineteen year old, survivor of a war, best friend and late for work. As Harry opened his eyes he was a teenager, his surroundings were lightened with the first sun rays of the day. Out of daily routine he took his glasses and then he froze; shocked. There, at the other side of the room, was Tom Riddle. Looking like he had every right being there and that it was just a normal thing Harry had to expect. Harry watched the boy as he dressed himself in a Slytherin uniform. He had to be around 16 or 17. He looked like a _teenager_. That wasn't right. Harry saw him dying. His thoughts circled and didn't found a beginning or an ending.

Harry watched him as he stood up. This _boy_ was the man who caused so much harm. Because of him... Harry saw the pictures of the war. Death bodies and tears wherever you went. But this... He looked kind of innocent. Harry felt the urge to chuckle. His life was indeed strange. Snape would be pleased to watch Harry in his current situation.

"If you don't want to be late, you should stand up." And Tom Riddle left Harry Potter speechless.

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The longer he stayed in 1945 the more he forgot about his previous life. Here he was just Harry Potter, an average Slytherin student with one Ravenclaw friend because she reminded him off Luna. She looked as dreamy as Luna did and sometimes she said just as odd things. It was refreshing and helped him not to forget everything.

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Harry was still sixteen as his graduation year at Hogwarts started. He sat alone in a section, waiting for Selene, with a book in his lap. 'Advanced Potion Making' was written as the title and something deep inside him yelled at him that he knew something similar. He didn't think about it so much.

"Potter," someone greeted him and Harry turned around, eyes round and almost dropping his book.

"Riddle," Harry answered and tried not to look down. Harry was wary around him, something about the boy send chills over his body. He still remembered himself in his first year; trying to befriend Riddle and the words Riddle told him. _"You aren't worth my time, Potter. Friends are just a waste and no opportunity."_ After that Harry stopped and ignored him. It wasn't like he would deny Riddle anything, no, of course not. He was part of the Slytherin house and a tiny part of Harry was proud that Riddle put up that reputation of himself which was transferred to the house.

Harry breathed out as Riddle closed the door of the section and a shaky smile appeared on his lips. Slowly his body gained a bit of the warmth back and he relaxed in his seat. He wasn't sure what was happening every time he saw the other boy but it wasn't a great feeling and he could manage one or two days without it.

"Harry." Selene's voice reminded him of the beauty of starry nights. Of the beauty cold things could possess. She had wonderful white hair and pale skin, almost matching his own when he had a bad day or night. Here eyes were blue just like the sky.

"Selene." He nodded and forced a tiny smile on his face. "How have you been?"

"No need to smile, Harry," she answered instead, sitting in the seat opposite to him. "Would you be so kind and look over my assignment in Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

It was nice to be in her near, Harry thought. The landscape the same since their first year and it lost just a bit of its charm.

"Would you meet me at the astronomy tower tonight?" Selene asked, handing over some papers. "It's a wonderful night to watch the stars dance."

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Harry wouldn't say that he was surprised as Dippet announced Riddle as the new Head Boy. Slughorn beamed and Riddle looked as stoical as ever and Harry could see a hint of triumph in Riddle's eyes because he had watched Riddle for a while now. It was an urge he couldn't suppress. There was a small, a little voice that told him to watch, to be careful and ready. For what? He didn't know.

As Harry felt something slip inside his head he remembered his mum who was telling him to think of casual things because so whoever tried to infiltrate his mind couldn't find anything from importance. The other thing he remembered was like a shadow, a vague memory of a long lost time. He watched the frame of a man telling him to clear his mind and then incredible pain. It was horrible.

That night Harry met Selene at the tower and they just sat there together back to back, enjoying the quiet company. Harry felt like he could cry, his body exhausted from nothing and he was confused because of no reason. Tiring. And the wind was their silent partner, along with the moon and a few stars.

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This night sleep was different from the others. Harry was still dreaming, but this time there another person, or rather another _being_ because Harry couldn't tell whether it was human or not. Instead of screams full of agony, fear and pain, he was greeted by a somehow warm feeling in his gut. A welcome change.

He was fully aware of the presence reaching out to him, a longing sensation swept over him, a bit hungry and dark. It pushed against his lips, testing and even a bit unsure.

Harry woke up, knowing that he had forgotten something very important. Something about _himself_. And he felt warm and secure, confused.

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The lessons started and Harry thought that it was ok to be back at Hogwarts because it was home. It was strange and weird since he never thought of Hogwarts as his actual home because that was within his parents and their house, manor. Potter Manor. Not too big to feel uncomfortable and not to small to feel wedged. He didn't know why but Harry hated small places out of nowhere. The one day it was alright to hide in a cupboard to escape his chores, they had house elves for a reason, and the next second he had a panic attack. His parents tried to calm him down, reassure him that everything was fine but Harry was convinced that nothing was just _fine_ and for a brief moment he wondered where he was and who his parents were because his parents were _death_.

So Hogwarts was home, Hogwarts was where he was always secure. Almost always.

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Selene told him he had a beautiful tragic soul one evening. He laughed and told her that she had no idea and she smiled knowingly. Then both went on to read in the books before them; Harry still tried to figure out from where he thought to know the potions book. The voice in his head, he refused to give it a name or tell someone about it because they would declare him as mad, whispered amazing things about a prince but Harry couldn't catch more of the faint words.

"There's troubling in your head," Selene said in a serious voice.

"You know... There is that little prince and he seems to mock me."

"There're many princes, Harry. Small and big."

"Yeah."

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The following nights he dreamed not of the calming presence. No, he dreamed of his 'other self' as he called the happenings where he watched a small boy named Harry Potter, just like his name was, growing up. It was a sad life with just a few friends and fewer good events, a lot of pressure and near death experiences. Sometimes he was an observer, other times he was the boy himself.

It was obscure to watch the boy grow into a man with many abilities. In a way Harry envied the other boy because of the things he could do, how his magic reacted to him and what he could do. But then he watched this Harry being tortured in many ways. Watched the war and he knew that something had to change because he couldn't stand it any more. And then he was this Harry, confronted with his feelings. The loss, the hate, the friendship, the war. How his life changed from a horrible childhood, to hope as he discovered that he was a wizard and not a _freak_. The hope was shattered and replaced with the will to survive.

The war was what altered him. His friends, Hermione, Ron, Neville, Luna, Ginny and Fred and George were at his side. They fought, they suffered, they lost so much and finally won. But to what price?

On the fifth day he woke up and knew that what he saw was reality. It took him minutes to catch his breath, to hold back all tears and to put the numb feelings away.

He remembered Tom Riddle as well. He was going to be sick.

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A week later he found refuge in the company of the being. It was nice and warm, but then it changed and grow into something harmful. Harry could hear his other self whisper to run, to find protection within Hogwarts wards and he did run. The pictures of burned bodies hunting his every step, a tortured Hermione, dragons and he wanted to scream, to feel alive again.

The safe place happened to be the place where he meet with Selene. He broke down, sobbing and knew that it wasn't appreciate for a Slytherin. But he was a Gryffindor as well. His hand reached out, touched Hogwarts wall and he could feel his own magic reacting. It was like the magic in his dreams, he realised. It was _his_ magic. Strong, powerful, listening to _his_ will.

Hogwarts answered his call and Harry laughed freed. It was such a pure feeling, such a joy. And it almost let him forget his past and future. The old magic was wrapped around him like a blanket, protecting him from wind, and his magic played with it and was pushed inside the castle as Harry's head touched the stones. He could feel the life and this moment he knew that nothing was doomed and that he, _they_ , still had a chance left.

"It hurts to know, Tom," Harry said slowly and looked at Riddle. Hogwarts told him that Riddle was there, watching him like he watched Riddle if he had an opportunity to keep an eye on the other boy. He wanted Riddle to know, to know what he did to him. "The pictures." And suddenly it was not enough to feel Hogwarts' magic. He was only sixteen years old, he missed his old life, his friends. His peace.

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After that particular night Riddle wouldn't let him go. Where Harry was, Riddle was seen as well. Harry remembered fragments of the night and it was like the beginning of his dreams again; just pictures and frames but not the whole thing because every time something was missing and he just wouldn't know _what_. It was exhausting and nerve-racking. It was not enough that he had to deal with his daily life, the life he started to remember, the other odd dreams about a presence and the school, but no Tom Riddle was everywhere where Harry was. Now that he knew how dangerous Riddle was he didn't value the special kind of attention he gained from the other boy. Even his little bootlickers were acting different around Harry, more hostile because he got what they wanted so bad, and Harry thought he had to murder someone if this wouldn't stop.

"Happy Birthday, pretty little lost soul." Selene smiled, a colourful package in her hands and clouded eyes. For the first time Harry wondered what he would actually knew and whether she would tell him or not. "At least you aren't sixteen any more." He had complained to be the youngest and that everyone would know because of his age.

"Thanks," he said, looking for more coffee and took the present with more than a bit suspicion. He would open it with caution.

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All of Harry's night mares came true as Harry sat in his Transfiguration class. He eyed this Dumbledore with a small amount of distrust. It was confusing to have two different memories of that man, one in which he was old, grey and dead. And the other memory in which he, Dumbleore, didn't like so much just because he was a Slytherin. Both pictures had holes and didn't match, Harry decided that he didn't is a big Dumbledore fan because the older Dumbledore let him die _without_ telling him.

"Professor," Riddle said. "I volunteer to work with Potter. I fell confident that I can help him should any problem or question appear." Riddle smiled and Harry really wanted to punch him. Beating him with all of his power into the next millennium.

"If you say so, Mr Riddle." Dumbledore looked as would he refuse and Harry hoped that the professor would at least do him this one, silent, favour. It was oblivious that that wasn't the case at all and Harry hated him a bit more.

The task they had to fulfil was relative easy. His future/past self is/was nineteen years old, for Merlin's sake, of course he could complete their task but Harry found pleasure in the way Riddle's face changed with every passing minute in which Harry failed to finish the exercise. Riddle succeeded at the first try.

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If Harry had known that failing would get Riddle to back off he would have taken it into account sooner. His life got a lot easier as Riddle decided that he wasn't worth his attention. Even his, Riddle's, little pups figured out that they could stop and that Riddle was back to his normal behaviour.

It was nice to talk to Selene again, without fearing that their conversations where eavesdropped. He told her about his dreams, ignored her _big_ smile as he talked about the presence like it was an actual being he cared about, the different feelings he noticed in these dreams from the being, and his other life. His original life.

"You know, Harry. You two share a band." He had no idea what she was talking about and she wasn't going to give him a single hint. "It's beautiful to watch while its growing and yet so sad. I'm sorry for you."

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Within the next weeks Selene and the being were his only constant. While he dreamed he would flee into the embrace of the presence so that he could bear his other life. He might already have lived through it but he was more mature at that time, he had to be strong for others and himself and as that Harry, in 1945, he didn't need to be that way. Here he was a loved son, with parents and a home.

Harry walked through the graveyard. He watched as Cedric Diggory felt to the ground, dead. What if he had been faster? Would Cedric be still alive?

He watched Voldemort's resurrection, felt the nausea and the cold of the old Riddle's gravestone in his back, the pain of Voldemort's Crucio and the helplessness as Voldemort summoned his followers. His parents came to rescue him, like he was a child in need, and the duel.

They called him a liar and that he was responsible for Cedric's death.

A liar. Someone who wanted to fetch attention.

And as they believed him it was too late and a second, a third war because of a dark wizard, war began.

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Harry wasn't so sure what was and what will be. He had a second Harry in his head, with different and oh so terrible memories. And he wasn't sure what was worse. To know that you had a second person in your head or that you and the second person were the _same_ person.

Harry considered writing his parents, but he wasn't sure what he should tell them. It was confusing for him to write a letter to parents and the concept of parenting was suddenly new and strange in his eyes because he had never parents before or had he?

He looked down and wondered how long it would take to fall down and if he would see Ron and Hermione again if he jumped. He wondered if the missed him or if they had forgotten about Harry, just as he had before the dreams started.

" _Harry_." The moon was so small. The wind felt like heavy against his heated skin. "Look at me, Harry." And he did.

"You know Riddle," Harry said smiling. A thin, failed smile. "You'll be the cause of so much mourning. Death'll follow your every step, wherever you try to hide. I could, I _should_ , stop you. Kill you. But then I wouldn't be better than you. And let me tell you. Bad things happen with wizards who are playing with time." There was a crazy little smile on Harry's face as he thought on the scolding Hermione would give him now. "You are my future, Tom Riddle. My past and the present. I loathe you for it and I understand you in some weird way. But I can't forgive." And he couldn't. At least not yet. He knew that Tom wasn't Voldemort but they were somehow so similar.

Harry stood still, not moving a single muscle. His mouth formed a firm line, his body was shaking and suddenly he was in an embrace. It was secure, and he knew that Tom Riddle was the being from his dreams. He hated him for it as tears began to wet Tom's shirt. He hated it that he felt so safe and calm.

His lips touched Tom's, just to try if it felt like the one in his dream and it was better. Not saying a word Tom pulled him even closer, as he, Harry, would be his only anchor when it was the other way around, and held him until someone of them was ready to let go.

"There is such a small balance between now and then, Tom. Sometimes I don't know what was and what is or what will be. Did I see it or did it already happen? Or will it ever happen? Time is such a strange construct, don't you think so as well?" Harry looked into Tom's eyes and saw more emotions than he thought it was possible to see in Tom Riddle.

Harry startled as his magic was touched. Just a bit at first but then... Harry let his magic reach out as well, unsure of what will happen, but he was alright to give it a try.

"Time'll show us our future," Tom said, still hugging him, spending him his warmth.

And Harry heard Selene's voice in his head.

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 _A band which they share._


	3. Chapter 3

_The last chapter so far. I hope you will like it and thank you for the likes and comments. :-)_

 _English is not my native language and if someone of you wants to correct my mistakes: Thanks and I won't stop you._

 _Have fun. :-)_

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As Harry Potter came to Hogwarts, he thought that everything would be better than before. Of course, first of all he thought that the letter was just a fake. Something like this couldn't be real. It simply couldn't. But as Hagrid came to get him a little hope caught fire. There were thoughts in him. Thoughts which filed him with hope and fear at the same time. Hope, that he would finally find friends, real friends and that he could be just like every average boy of his age. Like he wished for such a long time. He wanted to be normal. Once in his life he wanted being normal and not looked at as a freak he was. But instead of proving that he could be normal, he sat there in front of everybody on an old stool with a hat on his head. He could feel their eyes on him as he was a rarely exhibit in a museum. Harry never felt more like a freak than in this moment. He hated it with his whole heart. He could feel their observant glances on him and it made him feeling uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable.

He started to wriggle on the stool and his heart started beating faster. After some minutes, as it remained still in the Great Hall, students all around the tables began to whisper with the person next to them. A general anxiety captured the students and they started to wonder what happened in front of them. It was unusual that a new student wasn't sorted into a house after a few minutes.

"Gryffindor!" shouted the hat and it took a short moment for Harry to realise that the voice of the hat wasn't any longer in his head. Which was an weird experience. He had never listened to a voice in his head that wasn't his own. And, of course, he had never heard a hat which could actually speak.

With wobbly legs he rose from the stool and stumbled to his House table. Only in the background of his head he heard the happy and joyful slapping of his new house members. He didn't _care_. The hat had respected his wish. He couldn't believe what just happened. With round eyes he tried to remember when the last time someone, or somewhat, fulfilled a request for him.

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In his first year at Hogwarts Harry learned that magic was actually true. Harry realised that he was indeed a wizard and that he attended a school which taught this stuff to him. There were Professors who knew their subjects and had the task to support him. It was an amazing feeling. And as he he saw the library for the first time his heart started beating faster and the only thing he wanted to do was to stay right there and look around. But, he thought with sad eyes, he wasn't suppose to like learning and reading. He was a Gryffindor now, not a nerdy Ravenclaw and Ron, a new mate of him, kept out of harm's way as well. The only one he knew with the habit of going to the library was Hermione Granger. Mocked by everyone because of it and without any friends. So, he didn't go there. Harry wanted someone he could call a friend and if he went there he wouldn't find somebody. Another thing that Harry worked out was that everyone figured that they knew more about him than he about himself. _I read in a book about you._ Or. _You look so like your father. Except your eyes. You have your mother's eyes. Great people. They were great people._ Even the man who taught him potions told him which person he was although they had never seen each other before. _Arrogant. Just like your father._ These were his words towards him and Harry... Harry was confused. After the first lesson he had with the man Harry knew that he hated him with every cell in his body. But he didn't figured out was the reason why.

One night he slipped out of the Gryffindor tower. And there things started being complicated. Trolls, hidden rooms in the third floor and a big dog named Fluffy. A dragon took part as well. And during this period he made friends with Hagrid, the gamekeeper and Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts, and Hermione, where Harry had to admit that she really acted like a typical know-it-all. He had to face his first detention together with Ron and Malfoy, a spilled brat, in the Forbidden Forest. The place where he saw Voldemort the first time in his life. It shouldn't be the last time.

His very first year at the wizarding school ended in a way he never expected it to end. Laying in a bed in the Hospital Wing he thought back to the start of the term. This was the weirdest year in his whole life and there were a lot of weird things before. He knew exactly what he was talking about. Since he was growing up with his relatives.

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His second year started odd even before it started. There was a so called house elf. A tiny and small figure with big eyes and ears. His name was Dobby and he was standing in the middle of Harrys bedroom. (His relatives gave him the second bedroom from his cousin, after they saw the address which was written on top of his letter.) And it tried to convince Harry that he should never going back to school. Harry couldn't bring himself to say yes.

After that a little accident happened which involved magic. Of course it wasn't him who did it but his relatives didn't believe him and his uncle converted his room into a prison cell. With a dumb feeling in his gut Harry watched his room forming in his very own prison. There were grids in front of his window, locks at his door and Hedwig, his first present ever, looked at him with sad eyes. "I know," he said. "I wish I could change it."

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In his second year at Hogwarts Harry learned to understand the meaning of the words family and friendship. Both meant loyalty and trust as well.

The first time he associated anything else with _family_ was as he saw a flying car in front of his window and the faces of three Weasleys'. Before family was just a word which stands for a bit of fear and suppression. Now there was a warm feeling. Something unknown for him. Something which overstrained him and some which called Ron normal. It was everything, but not some he would call _normal_.

The friendship got its meaning as everyone thought he was Slytherin's heir. His friends were standing up for him without that he had to ask them. They didn't hesitate once or doubted him. No. The opposite was the case. Even as he told them they would be mistrusted and considered as an ousider as well, they remained at his side. Hermione smiled and responded that her first year was almost the same. So this wouldn't be anything new, she was used to it. At this statement Harry couldn't bear her gaze. It was his fault. He could have spoken earlier with her but he didn't.

Things got worse as he began to hear voices. And suddenly he was aware of one thing. Even in the wizard world: He wasn't average. He just couldn't be like everyone else. No! Of course he had to be The-Boy-Who-Lived and someone who could hear voices nobody else could hear.

Together with his two best friends tried to figure out what happened in the castle. Hogwarts wasn't like before. Pupils were found frozen and nobody knew what caused this state. Harry became popular being Slytherin's heir and everybody feared him doing something bad. The majority hated and feared him and some thought he had gone insane.

"Harry?" Ron asked quietly. "What... What should we do?" They stand next to Hermione's bed and looked down at her frozen figure.

"I don't know Ron," he answered and hated himself for this stupid remark. "But I wish I would know..."

In his second year Harry found the Chamber of Secrets. Something that not one adult could do before and in the back of his mind was the quiet question why he had to be the one. Together with Ron and Professor Lockhart they went down.

Harry felt his heart beat very fast. He was standing in front of something like passage. Old and it even looked like it was a bit rusty. _Parseltongue_ , he remind himself. And it worked. The Chamber was huge. There wasn't another word to describe it. He stumbled at first but could catch himself before he could fall.

Tom Riddle looked like the one in the diary, Harry guessed. It was as the teenager had waited for him. A slick smile was on his face and Harry felt a prickle in his stomach. _Deja vu_ , whispered a tiny voice in his head. He looked familiar. As would Harry knew him since a very long time and something screamed at him. To run. But he couldn't put a finger on it. Should he turn around and run away or should he run to the slim figure in front of him.

"Ginny," he said and whatever it was broke.

As Harry reported to the headmaster what happened in the Chamber he skipped mostly everything. He told him that he killed the Basilisk with Gryffindor's sword and that Voldemort's given name was Tom. Tom Marvolo Riddle.

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His third year at Hogwarts started like the second one a bit different than an average student was used to. But because he wasn't average he wasn't even surprised. Another magical accident happened. As the first one this one involved a Muggle as well, his uncle eldest sister Marge Dursley. To kept it short: His uncle refused to sign a letter which granted a permission going to the wizarding village Hogsmeade.

It was kind of funny, Harry thought. With his wand in one hand, his bag besides him and sitting on a street. It wasn't his attention but as the bus stopped only one meter before him he just tumbled. The large dog was forgotten and he stared ahead in disbelief. It looked ridiculous high and unstable.

"The Knight Bus," he replied slowly and went inside. "I guess, when this start so, it can only get worse."

And it got worse. The following school year went on weird. Odd. Whoever thought it would be a great idea to let Hagrid teach, even when it was just Care of Magical Creatures. Harry didn't want to say anything against his friend but his teaching method wasn't something for everyone. Personally he found it amazing. Yet Malfoy thought the opposite way. And as he, Malfoy, was kicked by a hippogriff in one of Hagrid's lessons... Well, let's say Malfoy's father was more influential than Hagrid and Buckbeak, the hippogriff, was sentenced to death.

To name the rest of his year was simple. Harry figured, or rather Hermione, out that one of their Professors was a werewolf. Professor Lupin, his favourite and best teacher for Defence Against the Dark Arts. And to made it even better Harrys godfather was a committing mass murder on the run. Lucky him, Harry thought cynical. Snape was as nasty and unfair as always and seemed to hate Harry with every year a bit more and hated every single lesson he had with him. Snape preferred his own house, Slytherin, and disliked Gryffindor at the most. Especially since Harry was part of it. His method of teaching was horrible for everyone how wasn't in Slytherin or just a natural. Harry wasn't any of it.

Then he got a map of Hogwarts which showed him _everyone_. Were they were and where there were or went. It was practical and he could go to Hogsmeade. Which he did. Hidden under his invisible cloak (he got this as a present in his first year at Christmas).

And now he was here. Side by side with Hermione in the Forbidden Forest. His hearts was racing inside his chest and he had difficulties catching his breath. His mind tried to handle the fact that he turned back in time. Certainly, magic was real. Why should time travel be impossible? He would laugh but with the knowledge that Lupin, as a werewolf at the moment, would kill them instantly, he knew it better than to follow this urge.

The third year proved Harry that his life couldn't be normal. His child's dream of being average will never came true. But he had friends and a godfather who loved him.

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The forth year started normal. Harry would went as far to say it was boring. He wasn't used to _nothing happened_. Alright, skipped that. It wasn't boring at all. Together with the Weasley family and Cedric Diggory, a Hufflepuff one year above Harry, he attended the Quidditch world cup. It was really amazing until there were the Death Eaters. Harry would describe them as a group of wizards which followed a crazy bastard named Voldemort. He got lost in the crowd and then, suddenly, everything stopped. Oh? Did he mentioned the dreams he had of Voldemort? No? Now he did. It was creepy and scary. End of the story.

As Harry arrived at Hogwarts he didn't expect anything. Actually it would be a good thing to have a proper year without any interruptions. But of course it didn't went this way. In the wizarding world was an occasion called the Triwizard Tournament. An absurd dangerous _game_ which joined, so Harry's opinion, only people with a death wish. And since we were on this part of thinking: Which adults in there right mind would let _children_ participate in it? The wittiest part of this play was that Hogwarts has been chosen being the setting for the next tournament.

The arrival of the two other schools were enjoyable, Harry assumed. The Beauxbatons Acadamy of Magic came in first. The girls looked amazing and there show was it as well. Coordinated and soft. At the contrary was the performance Durmstrang Institute. Powerful and square.

The year went on. To Harrys horror he was selected by a bloody cup, The Goblet of fire. Everyone thought that he wanted the attention, the first one who took part in it at such a young age. They hated him again. If Harry wouldn't be always in the focus he would laugh. That was just ridiculous. Why the hell should he want to join this madness? Oh Merlin. At first they called him there saviour, now they hated him. Every few months they changed their attitude towards him. It was laughable.

Ron hated him. Harry could just stare at Ron with an open mouth. "You really think I did _this_ to gain more fame? Are you crazy?" he asked and wanted to hit something really badly.

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The best thing of this was the Yule Ball. Even if it felt wrong to lead the dance. Harry couldn't name what made him feel like this but every cell screamed wrong over and over. He was to short to lead Parvati properly, so he thought.

During the tournament Harry learned to hate Rita Skeeter, a witch who worked for the Daily Prophet, the wizarding newspaper. She wrote very detailed together with a lot of imagination and devised things -and an alarming huge crowd believed her.

The Triwizard Tournament demanded everything he had to offer. Between the tasks, where he fought against dragons, the merpeople and run through an amazing horrified labyrinth, Ron and Harry rebuilt their friendship. Of course it wasn't like before but they were on a good way.

Harry wanted to throw up. Never in his life he felt as helpless as now. Tears in his eyes and the death body of Cedric Diggory right before him. His heart was racing, his head numb as he watched with horror the resurrection of Voldemort. His, _Harry's_ , blood circling through Voldemort's veins. Without questioning it was the most disgusting thing he ever saw.

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His next three years were heavily influenced by Voldemort along with the loss of many things and persons he loved.

In his fifth year he dreamed about Voldemort and after he couldn't stand this anymore he spoke with Dumbledore. A man which Harry cant judge. He was the headmaster of Hogwarts, that was sure. But all his actions were of a higher welfare. This man, if you asked Harry, was dangerous. Just... different than Voldemort and, which Harry valued most, he didn't tried to kill him.

"Concentration, Potter." Harry wasn't sure if could hate Snape more than at this moment. He had the ability to see the necessity behind it but that didn't mean he had to like it. Snape was a master, Harry could understand this part but what he couldn't understand was why _Snape_ had to be the person who taught him Occlumency. This man had a horrified attitude towards his students, especially if they were named as Harry James Potter. It wasn't like he didn't try to act mature but under this circumstance it was impossible.

Besides the detentions with Umbridge, the torture in form of his daily Occlumency lessons with Snape, the school year went on without other disorders. And despite Snapes insistence that he was a hopeless case, Harry thought that he fared better than average. At least Snape didn't laugh about his more or less good childhood. And if that didn't proofed that he had a bit talent than he didn't know how to proof it in a better way.

It went on well until it didn't. One simple dream should change his whole being. Harry saw his godfather in the hands of Voldemort and something switched. Together with his friends and a couple more people he broke in the Ministry of Magic to save his godfather. And then he saw him die. Right before his eyes. Sirius Black. Death. Something in his body just broke and left a gap behind. His hope of a real hope disappeared.

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In his fifth year Harry learned that Voldemort wanted to see him death because of a prophecy. The picture of Tom Riddle faded out with every single minute and Voldemort, a crazy wizard who murdered his parents, took his place instead. The glimpse of a warm feeling was not present, there was just a dumb and bitter thing left.

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In his sixth and seventh year he hunted Voldemorts Horcruxes down. It was a dark business and sometimes he thought he would end insane as well. His mood switched between dumbness and horror.

Snape and Malfoy. Both protected him in a way he never imaged they would. And somehow Harry could understand what could be the reason why Snape acted like he did. He couldn't stand the thought that Lily had chosen James Potter instead of him. That Lily married the man who made his childhood a torture. Nonetheless Harry disliked the man.

Seeing your friends suffer was never a thing he wanted to watch. Hermione tortured from Bellatrix Lestrange. He knew it was necessary to hold Ron back. If they wanted to life they needed a possible plan. _Time_ , he thought, _we need time_. While he considered he couldn't look away from the scene in front of them. He would remember her screams his whole life. They burned in his mind and could feel tears running down his cheeks.

Harry was ready to die so that everyone could life. Without purpose Harry reached Voldemort's goal. He was in possession of the Deathly Hallows and survived the killing course twice. It was Voldemorts aim to gain immortality. And in the end he lost. Voldemort died as he fought against Harry. "A nd either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives," Harry whispered as he quoted a part of the prophecy.

They had destroyed all Horcruxes the man had made in his life. Snape, Dumbledore, Sirius, Fred, Remus, Tonks. All gone. He broke in the safest places in the wizarding world, had run away from werewolf and faced the most disgusting things a wizard had to do. He and his friends witnessed the depths of human nature. And what for?

Harry never felt so alone. The war ended but to which price? So many who were death or hurt. So many who lost their family or a friend or a partner. Children which were orphans now and parents without their child.

"There is a reason," he told them, "for everything." He saw in there face and recognized the disbelieve. Harry wasn't sure whether he trusted his own words neither.

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 _Fate smiled sadly. So many souls which arrived at deaths gate. And two souls who shouldn't have had to follow the paths they did. One, who was insane since he lost his most valuable thing and finally passed away and another, who was standing in front of the ruins which were once his life a long time ago. Both destroyed from each others hands. Two persons who were meant to be each others solution. Two people. One like another but both formed into something different than they meant to be by decisions made from themselves and others. Time divided one from the other. But nothing could separated them for an eternity and so they collided._

 _Fate sighed. This should have another ending. Something more suitable._

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As Harry opened his eyes, his surroundings were lightened with the first sunrays of the day. Without thinking he took his glasses and then he froze. There, at the other side of the room, was Tom Riddle. Looking like he had every right being there and that it was just a normal thing. Harry watched the boy as he dressed himself in a Slytherin uniform. He had to be around 16 or 17. He looked like a _teenager_. That wasn't right. He saw him dying. His thoughts circled and didn't found a beginning or an ending.

Harry watched him as he stood up. This _boy_ caused so many harm. Because of him... Harry saw the pictures of the war. Death bodies and tears wherever you went. But this... He looked kind of innocent.

"If you don't want to be late, you should stand up." And Tom Riddle left Harry Potter speechless.


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